


You're Damn Straight I'm Gay

by klainebabygirl



Category: One Direction
Genre: !!, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bitch king Louis, Blow Job, Bottom Louis, Hand Job, Light Bondage, M/M, Rimming, Sweetie southern boy Harry with a dark sexy side, Top Harry, blindfolding, larry stylinson - Freeform, lol, ride 'em cowboy, riding horses and shoveling cow shit, southern, the other boys are around too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:54:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7729363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klainebabygirl/pseuds/klainebabygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson is the only son and heir to one of the largest cattle ranches and farms in Texas, and he's got quite the snobby attitude from his life of privilege. When Louis' dad hires the attractive, sweet, and good ol' country boy Harry Styles to help out and Louis can't stand him, Harry ends up teaching Louis a lesson in Southern charm. </p><p>or a one shot where cowboy Harry fucks the bitchy attitude out of snob Louis who's oh-so-happy to finally have Harry's hands on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. blow me down and pick me up

**Author's Note:**

> I recommend listening to country music while reading this fic, which was inspired mostly by Keith Urban songs.  
> I'm a Southern Texan girl, so anything I write about country living will be as accurate as it is in my first-hand knowledge :D
> 
> Enjoy, and please leave kudos, I'd really appreciate it. (PLUS it takes like two seconds, hoe, and it took me like two million seconds to write this thing so.)  
> Comment, if you have any corrections for typos or whatnot, or would just like to be sweet and show me some love xx
> 
> (Chapters will get longer, this is relatively short, I'm sorry.)

"Dad, what the fuck, why do you need so many?" Louis demanded, rolling his eyes and curling his lip in disgust as four men walked past the enormous glass window behind the table in the kitchen of the Tomlinson ranch house. "And why, exactly, do they have to walk around all sweaty, shirtless, and smelling like shit?"   
  
Louis wasn't entirely on board with the idea of tons of extra help, but the aforementioned sweaty, shirtless, super-hot dudes walking around like they owned the place were definitely the only perk to the fall cattle sales and roundups happening right now.  
He just had to make it seem like he was repulsed.   
  
"Louis, c'mon. They're farm hands, here to help me. How would I run the ranch without them? Or is this you volunteering to finally do some work around here?" Mark, Louis' dad, asked after gulping down a mug of black coffee.   
  
"God, no. Why would I _volunteer_ to walk around smelling .5% better than a fresh cow turd?"   
  
"Exactly. You wouldn't," Mark muttered.   
A voice sounded from the sitting room. "Are you picking on my sweetheart, again Markie?" Jay, Louis' incredibly dotting mom, teasingly asked.   
Mark laughed before giving Jay a kiss on the cheek as she entered the kitchen to make her own coffee. "Never in a million years," he said, flashing Louis an easy grin, which Louis half-heartedly returned before looking back down at his iPhone 6 plus.   
  
"If it makes you any happier, Louis, we've only hired six extra hands to hire to get us through the fall rush. Couple weeks, it's back to the usual eight. Okay, buddy?"   
  
Louis waved his hand in acknowledgement as he left the kitchen, grabbing his sunglasses and keys to his truck. "Whatever. I'm going to Liam's. Bye."  
  
"Goodbye, Boo. Play nice," Jay called, laughing. Louis didn't answer. Who has time to humor parents' baby talk anymore?

 Kicking open the screen door with the toe of his vans while texting Liam that he was going to stop by for a while, Louis jumped down the four stairs of the front porch steps like he'd been doing since he was six. 

As opposed to the hundreds of other times he'd done it, though, he slapped smack into someone's bare chest this time.   
A strong hand caught him before he fell backwards onto his ass.   
  
"What the actual fuck, dude? Watch where you're going? Turn your fucking eyes on," Louis snapped, jerking his arm angrily away from whoever had bothered him.  
  
The person didn't let go.  
"Excuse _you_ , you mean," a deep, slurred, extremely southern accent drawled. Louis ripped his glasses of his face, pissed that he had to look up to meet the eyes of this annoying human.  
  
"Uh, no," Louis said, glaring straight into spring green eyes, brownie-colored curls, and -fucking hell- full pink lips shaped like a damn Cupid's bow. Who the hell was this and why was he blinding Louis with his bare-chested, chiseled beauty at nine in the fucking morning?  "Excuse _you_."  
  
The dude stuck his hand out all genteel after he released his vice like hold on Louis' upper arm - which, Louis noted, he could fit his entire fist around. How big even were his hands?   
"I'm Harry Styles, here to help out. Lovely to crash into you this mornin', beautiful."  
  
Louis refused to shake the curly-haired cowboys' hand, instead pulling up one corner of his lips in a mock-pleasant smile that hopefully was conveyed as more of a grimace, and angled his head condescendingly. "Yea, no, I don't shake hands with the help. Don't know where they've been."  
  
Louis checked the time on his phone, even though he knew very well what time it was. "Gotta go, no time for tea and cookies. Thanks for throwing off my entire morning schedule, dude."  
  
Instead of looking pissed and annoyed like Louis'd hoped, Farm Boy chuckled, dropping his hand to hook over his belt, which fit perfectly over his stone-washed jeans and wonderfully around his lean abs.  
Christ.  
  
"Sorry for throwin' off ya groove, emperor."   
  
_Goddamnit that fucking accent even I don't sound like that and I've been raised in the fucking boonies all my life._  
  
  
Instead of letting on to his thoughts, which were honestly leaving him quite slack-jawed, Louis just rolled his eyes and flounced off, sliding his glasses back up his nose.   
  
"Whatever. Don't let it happen again or you won't be sticking around long," he called over his shoulder. The only answer from the boy was a loud laugh.   
  
....  
  
"You're kidding. He laughed? After plowing you over, he just laughed? Have him sacked ASAP."   
Liam was sympathizing with Louis after Louis had finished retelling the tale of how he was attacked, forced down into slimy pig-feces-ridden mud, and mocked by the stupidly sexy but infuriating hired hand and that he was late coming over not because he'd stopped to blow through a whole pack of illegal-at-his-age cigarettes, but because he'd had to shower all the stinking mud from his body.

True, his family didn't own pigs, there was no mud in sight at the ranch -there was hardly water, for Christ's sake- and he hadn't necessarily been _attacked_ , per say, but the rest was true.   
The infuriatingly sexy part.   
Louis felt mildly bad about lying to Liam to hide the smoking thing, but he didn't want to open that can of worms with health addict Liam Payne.

Liam was the only person who knew Louis wasn't entirely, 100%, red-blooded-country-boy heterosexual.  
And Liam didn't judge him for it. Besides, he never said anything negative, and that was why he was the most perfect person for Louis to go to to lay all his problems down. Liam just fumed and passed judgement with him, and plotted their revenge, even though Liam himself had no reason to be angry.  
  
"Is it bad that I don't really want to get rid of him? He's so fucking hot," Louis whined from the four poster queen sized bed in Liam's huge room, spooning mint chocolate chip ice cream into his mouth from a neon pink ceramic bowl. "And we really could use some more eye candy on the ranch right now."  
  
Liam shrugged from where he was flopped on the bedroom floor with his own bowl of cookie dough ice cream and green bowl. "Just let it go then and enjoy the view. It's only a few more weeks."  

Louis swirled his spoon. "I guess. This would be easier if I didn't have to think he was hot."

Liam sat up. "Hey, man, you are who you are, you cant change it. I love you bro, a lot of people do. No one should give two shits whether or not you like chick or dick. It ain't their business anyway."  
  
Louis laughed at Liam's comparison. "Yeah? Thanks, man."  
  
....  
  


"So, you like country music much, Sunshine?" Farm Boy asked, the most recent in his endless barrage of questions. They were sitting on the ranch's front porch. He was apparently on lunch break or something and wouldn't leave Louis alone. 

"I told you. Stop. . . calling. . . me. . . that," Louis stated slowly in measured tones, like he was talking to a slow three year old, gesturing with his hand at the same time.  
  
Still, despite Louis' pleas (or rather, decrees), the farm hand, Harry Styles -or 'Haz' as he was insisting left and right that Louis call him every time Louis opened his mouth and started off with "Harry,"- refused to refer to Louis as anything other than Sunshine. Or princess, if Harry Styles was being especially weird. Harry couldn't possibly be gay could he? He was too freaking hot for that. He probably had women falling off him.  
But if he was straight, why was he doing this?   
  
And who calls other guys -especially the son of your boss- _"princess_?"

"Oh c'mon, hon. Be a sport. Lou."  
  
Harry seethed old-fashioned, boy-next-door charm and it only made Louis want to either smack him or ride his dick.  
  
"Shut _up_ , _Harry_. Only my friends call me Lou. Why won't you leave me alone? Find someone else to infest." Louis scrolled his thumb mindlessly down his Instagram feed, attempting to look busy enough to have an excuse to brush off Harry.   
  
Harry shifted in his rocking chair.   
  
He was wearing a plaid shirt today, short sleeved. Something that looked suspiciously like a headband was tossed into his curls, and he still had the same jeans and worn-down-to-dust boots. Louis knew that extremely broken in cowboy boots were a must for every country man.   
That's why he paid extra for the pre-worn looking ones straight off ShoeSource.com.   
  
"You don't count me as a friend? Oh well. Guess this mean I gotta keep tryin'."  
  
Again with the fucking grin.   
  
"No, it does not in any way mean keep trying. It means go the fuck away. Shovel some more cow shit like you're being payed to do," Louis barked.   
  
Harry chortled. Literally, it sounded like a cross between a choke and a snicker. "Hey, I see something I like, I've gotta do somethin' about it. You want what you want at the end of the day. I'll go shovel some more, though, if it makes you happy."  
  
"Yes. It would make me vary happy for you to disappear," Louis snapped back, standing up off his porch and swooshing open the delicately-decorated screen door and running up the stairs to his room.  
  
Harry Styles needs to stay the fuck away from Louis and his confused emotions.   
  



	2. Coffee Tastes Like Horse Piss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It didn't actually take me two million seconds to write this. . . I exaggerated.  
> Two million seconds equals five hundred and fifty-five days. It took me about three.  
> But still.  
> Hmu on twitter maybe? @tattedljp
> 
> Enjoy, and thank you for the comments and kudos! It genuinely makes me happy xx
> 
> {lol also I love coffee ok remember this.}

Louis could hear Harry singing from where Louis was standing outside the barn.  
  
Carrie Underwood. He was singing Carrie Underwood.   
And not just any Carrie Underwood song. Harry was singing "Before He Cheats."   
And _damn_ he had an amazing voice.  
  
"I DUG MY KEY INTO THE SIDE OF HIS PRETTY LITTLE SOUPED UP FOUR-WHEEL DRIVE! CARVED MY NAME INTO HIS LEATHER SEAAAAAATS!" Harry bellowed.   
  
Louis couldn't help it; watching Harry toss huge bales of hay over the horse stall gates in the big barn all while singing one of Carrie's angst songs and flipping his hair around was too much, and he bust out laughing, the shrill and delighted sound escaping his lips before he managed to slap a palm over it.   
Too late, though, and Harry saw him.   
  
Smiling brightly, he quickly trotted over to Louis.   
It was a slight bit chilly this morning, and Harry had a bright red, comfy, warm flannel on his strong torso, and his hair pulled up by a matching headband.   
"Hi, Louis!" he greeted jovially.   
Louis bit his lip to keep from smiling. This big bear of a dude was so friendly but at the same time. . . he was just a farm hand. About sixty floors beneath Louis and his unlimited AmEx.  
  
"Hello Harry," Louis turned his expression to steel mode.   
  
"Aww, c'mon. You we're literally laughin' a couple seconds ago. Where'd the angry bird face resurrect from?"  
  
Louis squinted up at Harry. "'Angry bird face'? That's what you think about me behind my back? Okay. Goodbye."  
  
Harry grabbed his wrist lightly. "I think a lot of things about you. Usually good things, though, don't worry."   
Then he winked. Harry winked.  
  
Louis didn't even care to ask what "good things" meant and pulled his wrist away.   
"Uh huh. Anyway," Louis clapped his hands mockingly. "Chop chop, back to work, wouldn't want Daddy Dearest finding out you've been shirking to bother me."  
  
"You call him Daddy?" Harry asked, tilting his head innocently.   
  
Louis' eyes narrowed. He knew where this was going. " _No_. I don't. Stop it."   
  
"So you don't call anyone Daddy?" Harry forged ahead.  
  
Louis scoffed, shoving past Harry to stalk down the rows of horse stalls in the barn, stopping at his stallion, Windsor, and stroking his smooth, velvet nose.  
Harry followed, of course, with his obscene questions.  
  
"Ohh, is this your boy? Do you like to ride him a lot?" Again with the innocent eyes and the kinky question.  
  
Harry's a little tease.  
  
Louis decided to play along before snapping back. Make Harry suffer. Louis could flirt as much as anyone. "Yep, I do. Long and hard, we go for hours, almost every day."  
  
Louis saw Harry shuffling his feet in the straw and dust and tugged on a few locks of hair.  
  
"Does he like it?"   
  
Louis nodded emphatically. "Oh yes. I know if he could he'd beg for more, but. He can't talk."   
  
Louis knew Harry was inches away from asking why he couldn't talk before he remembered they were supposed to be discussing the horse.   
  
"Yea. . . because. . . It's a horse."   
  
"Exactly, Harry. Sometimes I give into his pleas and we go for a bit longer, I work him harder. My ass gets pretty sore after that though."   
  
Harry literally choked and grabbed the stable stall door to steady himself. "What are you- fuck Louis." Harry looked downright uncomfortable, and Louis didn't miss the visible bulge in Harry's jeans, lose as they were.  
He must be huge.  
  
Louis coolly met Harry's eyes. "Returning the favor," he said snidely.   
  
Whirling on his heel, Louis strode from the barn, leaving Harry alone with Windsor and what he hoped was a painful hard-on.  
  
A couple hours later, Louis was stretched out in a hammock between shady trees with just the right amount of sunlight and cuddly blankets, sipping a hot chocolate and again messing with his phone. It was perfect. Louis was incredibly self-satisfied because of the stunt he'd pulled earlier with Harry. 

"Hey, Louis."   
  
Louis' peace was shattered by Harry himself beckoning from right outside the perimeter of balmy fall sunshine Louis had.   
Instead of standing up- like no shit, if you'd managed to get into a hammock, do you have any plans of getting out any time soon? No, you do not- he hollered, "yeah? What?"   
  
Harry shook his head. "Can't you come here?"   
  
Louis rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Um? No? I can't?" he said, making sure Harry could hear how pissed he was at being interrupted _again_ by Harry.  
  
Louis' shushed the small corner of his brain that began whispering about how fun it'd be to cuddle with Harry in the hammock. He was so big, it'd be like Louis getting covered by a blanket.   
The fuck? Where'd that come from?  
  
"Can't you just tell me? What do you want?" Louis hollered.  
  
Instead of answering Harry shuffled over.  
"I was wonderin' if you like, I dunno, like coffee?" Harry asked, fiddling with the seem of his shirtsleeve. He actually looked. . . nervous. Louis raised an eyebrow.  
"No. I hate it. Coffee tastes like horse piss."  
  
Harry was flustered for about three seconds before he recovered his charm.  
  
Louis'd realized by now he was trying to ask him out.  
  
"No. It doesn't, but would you maybe be up for going to get a cup of tea with me sometime?" Harry deployed Puppy Dog Eyes and clasped his hands in front of his face like he was praying.  
"Please? I like you."  
  
Louis snorted, avoiding the glittering green eyes at all costs. "Why would you like me? I haven't been nice to you at all and don't plan to be."   
  
Harry's turn to laugh. "Yea, well I think we could fix that. You're due for an attitude change don't you think?"   
Louis scoffed and rolled his eyes. "No, I'm happy as I am, thanks."   
  
Harry shifted. "Really? You sure? Because to me you sound like a pretty. . .frustrated person."  
  
Louis sat up half ways. "What does that mean? Frustrated _how_?"

Harry winked. "Not to be crass or anything, but you sound like you haven't gotten a good old fashioned fuck in a while. Your hand gets pretty boring after a couple hundred times."  
  
Louis flopped out of his hammock, seething and more than a little embarrassed because Harry was right. "If you think, it's your place to fucking suspect or make comments on my god damn _sex_ life, you need to get the fuck away from here!" Louis pressed his hands to Harry's broad chest, fully intending to shove Harry back onto his ass in the dying grass.   
Louis gave one hard push with all his might.   
Harry didn't budge.   
  
Louis scoffed and flounced over to another tree and sat down with his back against the trunk and so he couldn't see Harry.  
Who did he think he was? People can't say things like that, no matter how true they are.  
 


	3. date me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate naming chapters, roll wit it fam

"Louis? I'm sorry. . . really. You're right, that was kind of rude," Harry actually apologized, following Louis to where he'd stalked off to pout.   
  
Louis didn't bother answering, instead choosing to pull his sweater sleeves further down over his small hands and huddle himself facing away from Harry and his cowboy boots and towards the fields. He could see other men out in the tall, dry grass, hacking away at something or other. Louis didn't care.   
  
"Let me make it up to you, with the tea, since you hate coffee. I want to be friends, you're a cool person," Harry continued, sinking down onto his knees beside the tree, one of his huge hands clasping the rough bark to support himself.   
  
Louis finally gave Harry a small gigabit of his attention. "Why would you say that to me? The thing about sex?"   
  
Louis didn't want to admit it, to himself and least of all to Harry, but he knew the smoking hot cowpoke was right; he was entirely sexually frustrated. Not that it was anyone's business but his own.  
  
"I don't know, it just slipped, I'm sorry," Harry reached out and tagged Louis' shoulder with one of his long fingertips.  
Louis forced himself not to lean into the strong touch.   
  
"Fine. I'll get a drink with you, just so you can apologize properly. But don't make any more shit with me, got it?"  
   
Harry nodded reverently. "When can we go?"   
  
Louis stared off towards the working guys again thinking, before answering.   
Did he honestly even want to go anywhere with Harry Styles, captain of the ship of annoying?   
The answer surprised him; yes. He very much so did. but once again, that was something Harry didn't need to know. It'd just boost his already-inflated ego.  
  
"Late tonight work for you?" Louis finally asked.   
Harry visibly relaxed, becoming rather soft and sweet-looking. "Definitely. I'll be at your door at eight pm sharp."  
  
Hoisting himself up, Harry sauntered off to go work. Louis repeatedly told himself not to look forward to tonight; Harry was simply making up for his rude comments.   
Louis immediately whipped out his phone and texted Liam the news. Liam replied with a simple thumbs-up emoji. Was Louis being too overbearing with his Harry-harping to Liam? Maybe he should ease up, leave Li alone.   
But then who was he supposed to gossip with? Louis sighed, checking the time. Only three more hours of inner turmoil before the actual date (Was it a date? Does getting tea count as dating?) happened.  
  
  
Standing in front of his full-length mirror, Louis swapped a light beige sweater for a darker brown one. Or would a grey one work better with this eyes? Louis settled on the brown one, because it just looked like Autumn and was warmest for the colder Texas night.  
Along with a pair of vans and a quick finger brush through his hair, Louis jogged out of his room and down the stairs just as a knock sounded. Flinging open the door, Louis smiled brightly at Harry and his beautiful dimples before catching himself and frowning up and down Harry's super hot outfit of surprisingly not stonewashed jeans -they were black- an emerald green flannel that made his eyes pop, and his traditional beat-up boots.   
  
"Good, you're finally here."  
Harry cocked his head to the left, confused by Louis' attitude. "Yep. . . its eight on the dot. I'm not late at all."   
Louis rolled his eyes. "Yea, whatever, let's go. Bye, Mom, Dad. I'm going out," Louis called to the living room where his mother was crocheting and his dad was watching a football game.  
  
"Be back by eleven, Louis," his mom replied. "We're going to Saturday's Farmers Market tomorrow morning at six am," Jay reminded him. Louis made a disgusted noise. Six fucking am on Saturday just to sell early season pumpkin pies. Figures.  
"Yea okay. Bye."  
 Louis pushed past Harry onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind him. Stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets, Louis glanced at Harry. "Let's get this show on the road then, shall we?"   
  
Harry nodded emphatically, rushing ahead of Louis to yank open the door of his dusty white Ford pickup for him.   
Louis watched Harry jog around to the drivers' seat, slamming the door and turning towards Louis before beginning to drive. "I'd just like to say a thank you, one more time, for goin' with me tonight," Harry looked up at Louis' face from under his eyelashes. "You didn't have to."  
Louis half smiled. "Yea, it's nothing."  
  
Harry nodded again, seeming to reassure himself of something mentally before sliding the truck over into drive.   
"Let's go get some tea, then," he said quietly as the rolled out of the driveway and gate, heading towards town.   
  
("Town" consisted of Starbucks, 7-Eleven, Walmart, CVS, Whataburger, Dairy Queen, Chase bank, the post office, plentiful hole-in-the-wall bakeries, antique joints, and car shops and washes. Oh, and the Farmers Market. They were also building a Payless shoe store, to be complete in seven months. Real ritzy.) It took all of ten minutes to get from Louis' house to Starbucks, and the place was deserted.  
  
Climbing out, Harry held the restaurant door for Louis.  
"How do you take your tea, good sir?" Harry asked in a jokingly British accent. Louis was momentarily startled by how hot he sounded, and laughed. "You're good at that accent," he said.   
Harry grinned, popping a dimple. "I'm good at a lot of things I could show you."   
Louis licked his lips, sucking his bottom one into his mouth. "Oh, I'm so sure. Now get my tea," he ordered. "No fake sugar, extra milk. Hot." Louis slid into a booth as Harry placed their order with the hipster barista girl with one earbud in.

Harry settled in across from Louis after he returned from the bar, leaning his elbows on the table and setting his face on his hands.   
"Let's hope she doesn't add Splenda," Harry winked, jutting his chin at the girl making their drinks. "That'd be totally horrifying."   
Louis huffed exasperatedly. "Yeah, it'd be gross. Who could possibly like fake sugar? It was made in a fucking lab."  
Harry chuckled and shrugged. "True."   
  
"Harry Styles," the bored chick called, sliding the cups down the bar towards them. Harry stood and grabbed them, pushing one in front of Louis.   
  
"Thanks Harry," Louis smiled after taking a sip of the tea -tasted perfect- and burning his tongue, swallowing quickly.   
Harry laughed, blowing softly across the top of his coffee. "Some like it hot."  
"Yea, and some burn off their fucking mouths," Louis panted, sticking his tongue out to get cool air on it.   
  
Harry fought a grin was he took a small sip of his drink, watching Louis over the rim of his cup. "Anyway, have you officially forgiven me yet?"   
  
Louis rolled his eyes a bit, rubbing his burned tongue over the back of his teeth. "I guess, kind of."   
  
"I promise never to say anything mean again," Harry held his right hand to his heart. "Just please forgive me, beautiful. We got off on the wrong foot. I want you to like me."    
  
Louis sighed, setting his cup down flat. "Harry. . . You're nice enough, okay? Just forget about it, I'm over what you said. But, why, exactly, do you care so much whether or not I like you? You're not going to be around for much longer, really,"   
  
Harry shifted. "Yeah, I guess. But while I am here, I'd like to get to know you better."  
  
Louis chuckled. "Well, we'll see how that goes."  
  
  
  
   
  


 


End file.
